


a week with baldi

by orphan_account



Category: Baldi's Basics (Video Game)
Genre: Bananas, Humor, Teacher-Student Relationship, i'm sorry for writing this mystman12, not smut, this is a joke that went too far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Baldi's an egg-headed dictator with one hair and no concern for the well-being of his students.One day, he gives one of those students a fruit.Romance develops.





	1. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never did i think i'd write an x reader about baldi...
> 
>    
> .  
> .

 

It was Monday.

 

God.

 

“Oh hI. WELcome to my schOOLhouse.”

 

It was six months into the school year and he still greeted me with _that._ I wondered if Baldi was just slow or if he actually suffered from Alzheimer’s. Maybe the lack of hair on his head had something to do with it.

 

I gave a nod to the disproportionate and senile old man like I always did and set foot properly in the “schOOLhouse”. It was more of a prison than a school. For the kids who’d been here since kindergarten, the Auschwitz-esque teaching methods here were just part of the daily grind, but I had transferred in third grade.

 

Boy, had that year been a nightmare.

 

I entered the classroom and sat my ass down, staring at the very blank chalkboard in front of me. The other students looked at me. I looked back. I smiled, and they smiled back. That was the most cheery socialization any of us ever had with each other this early in the morning, because our dear math teacher never really warned us when he would -

 

“hEllo clASS!” Upon hearing the nasally drone, we all whipped ourselves into the ‘proper learning position’ faster than we could think ‘ _oh no’_.

 

Mr. Baldi. The Hitler of the school. We had a Principal, of something, but all he did was go around calling people out and putting them in detention. Baldi was the real leader. It was _his_ ‘schOOLhouse’. He commanded our attention, our respect, and our raw red asses at all times.

 

Yes, I thought as I witnessed Mr. Baldi setting his ruler down on the desk. The Hitler of the school. That ruler had seen more death than I could even fathom.

 

Make a mistake in Baldi’s class, he gon’ slap that ass. It was a rule of thumb. We all understood it, and we all had to accept it. We also had to accept the fact that copious amounts of slapping from a strangely sturdy ruler could result in more than just a sore bum-bum.

 

At that point in time, we’d already lost about half the class. Half the class at half the school year. If we applied some of Baldi’s fAvorite frActions, that meant approximately none of us would make it through to summer break. Baldi could measure our bodies to be exactly 6’ under, give or take an inch.

 

Some of the class who were lucky enough to escape did escape, but they had to brave an exciting cat-and-mouse chase featuring the entire school working against them. If they failed, they became another addition to the mass grave that was undoubtedly underneath the floorboards of Baldi’s office.

 

A good 95% or 0.95 or 19/20 of us wouldn’t even dream of attempting that. After all, all we really had to do not to die is work hard at math! No, no, it wasn’t about _working hard_ , it was about _being good._ All we had to do is be good at math.

 

We also had to be psychic. We had to know exactly what that spaghetti looking green shirted monster wanted from us. If we displeased him, that was a one-way trip to Slap Central.

 

After an absolutely traumatizing third grade, I had adapted pretty well to life in the schOOLhouse. Once, I had nearly seen the wrong end of Baldi’s ruler (really, there was no _right_ end), but there was another kid who’d done even worse than me. His name was Jeremy. I never saw him again.

 

Was it sick, how accustomed to death we were now? I chose the smartest students to be my friends, so I could get pointers from them and also so there’s never be a day when my best friend got beat to kingdom come. I woke up every weekday with adrenaline in my veins and steel in my eyes.

 

We were all afraid of dying, but if we did die, it was our fault. If a classmate died, they’d screwed up. We didn’t really mourn them unless we’d known them well. It was just another day.

 

I always gave my friends an update at the end of the week, a tally on how many people Baldi had taken out by the end of five days. On a good week, the score would be a clean zero. One week last January, two of us disappeared every day.

 

I had a feeling Baldi had had his first period that week.

 

I realized I was smirking and quickly stopped, making myself look at The Ruler to reset my expression.

 

Humor was always my first go-to when it came to depressing misery like this. Whenever someone else disappeared, I’d imagine shoving Baldi’s 12-inch ruler right up his ass. I’d imagine his nasal voice saying “oh BABY” or some shit like that. “Oh BABY right up my ASS-“

 

I pulled my focus back into reality, where Baldi was already assigning parts of the textbook to do. “Parts of the textbook”, haha. We were just solving the whole textbook at this point.

 

Yeah, no, disclaimer: Baldi never really taught us anything. He just gave us tests.

 

“SO, clASS, dO chapter 48473 from page 638058 plEAse...”

 

We got out our textbooks in unison and started solving. You could compare it to a child labor factory.

 

While we worked, Baldi sat at his desk eating a banana. He always ate that same goddamn banana, every day. Didn’t he get sick of it?

 

But really, it fit right in with the rest of this place. The miserable, mundane sameness.

 

“Mmnm,” Baldi hummed, as he continued devouring his banana. I swore, his entire voice came from his nose. I remembered back in third grade, when the extremely nasal humming noises had been really distracting, but now they were just part of the background noise. Along with the gross slurping he made when he ate it.

 

Huh. If I took a step back and really listened to the noises, if I looked at the way he was gobbling that banana...

 

Baldi looked... pretty gay.

 

A laugh caught in my throat, and I immediately stopped breathing. Shit. Did I really want to die like this, over Baldi’s Banana Bonanza? Did I really want to die with the thought of Egghead Murderboy performing fellatio in the forefront of my conscious?

 

Luckily, the fellater in question didn’t seem to notice my slip-up. He just kept on fellating.

 

Keep on keeping on, Baldi.

 

I finished my problems with frightening ease, as did most of the class. Though this school was hell and surely 100% illegal, I had to give Baldi credit; we surviving students were probably one of the most elite groups of students in the country at mathematics.

 

Of course, we couldn’t get any verification for that. I was sure, to the rest of the world - including and especially “our” school district - Baldi’s Concentration Camp of Death and Misery didn’t exist. We didn’t take district standardized tests because Baldi wasn’t the one who made them. We didn’t submit our grades to the higher-ups.

 

So really, what use was my time spent here?

 

I didn’t know. But I also didn’t think I could stand trying to get the hell out.

 

I wondered how the escapees were living. They were probably scarred for life. Could they get used to a “normal” school setting again? They probably could. “Normal” school was probably just like this place, just with less danger. They probably still had nightmares of Baldi following them with that _slap slap slapping_ ruler of his. They probably were praised for their unusually good math skills.

 

Yes, we were good at math, but not anything else, because it was Baldi’s school and he lived, breathed, and excreted equations.

 

God. Someday I’d have to get out. I had to get out before college, at the very least.

 

Shit. Baldi was writing down another full chapter of problems to do for the next hour. We all hated doing problems, but we couldn’t slow down on purpose in fear that he’d notice. Whatever.

 

Another round of shipments for the ol’ school slaves.

 

———————-

 

Just as we were heading to lunch, the Principal stopped me.

 

Oh god, what had I done now?

 

But instead of a swift sentence to the Office, he gave me another destination:

 

“See Mr. Baldi in his classroom.”

 

That was probably worse. I tapped the Principal on his shoulder as he was turning to leave me.

 

“Sir,” I muttered, under my breath. “Can I please go to detention instead?”

 

The Principal frowned. “If you _want_ to go to detention, I might have to increase the detention time from now on. Detention is a punishment. For doing. Something wrong.”

 

I nodded. The Principal left.

 

Goddamnit, I thought, heart pounding in my chest. This might be my last few moments alive.

 

I walked over to the classroom. For whatever reason, Baldi hasn’t sent me to his office. Maybe there _was_ a mass grave there.

 

I knocked on the door cautiously, and I heard that familiar nasal voice say: “Come In!”

 

I didn’t want to. No way in shit did I want to have a one-to-one with Baldi. Not when literally no one else was in that room, when no one could hear my screams.

 

But really, I didn’t have a choice.

 

I stepped in, and walked until I was standing in front of his desk. With Baldi sitting down, I was looking down on him. By a lot. That felt nice. At least I got to do that before I died.

 

“Sit down.” He droned. Well, _that_ didn’t last long. I sat down in the nearest seat.

 

The ruler was on his desk, in easy reach. It was time. I crossed my fingers. I’d had a good run here. I’d tried.

 

Now I could join Jeremy and the others...

 

“You have done an amAzing jOb in my class!”

 

What?

 

“What?” I said.

 

Baldi stood up, showing off his good 6’1”. I had to crane my head a bit to get a good look at his face, which had a proud (?) smile on it.

 

What the fuck.

 

He reached out an arm, scaring me for a second, but there was no ruler in his grip.

 

I tensed as he patted me on the head.

 

 _What the fuck_.

 

“I get the sense that you lOve math,” he chirped, and there was actual genuine happiness in his voice. “Keep working hard, and never stop loving math!”

 

Baldi pat me one last time, then took his hand away. The top of my head felt weirdly empty without it.

 

He walked back to his desk, and for a split second I thought he was reaching for his ruler. But no, he instead grabbed one of his famous bananas. He gave it to me, that happy smile still on his face.

 

I held the banana in wonder. “O-oh. Th-thank you, sir,” I muttered, feeling a weird sting in my nose and eyes.

 

“It’s no problem! Now get back to lunch, and eat that banana. It is full of potassium!”

 

I slowly stood up, and I realized my legs were trembling. As I walked out the door, I saw Baldi wave at me with his deformed arm. I waved back awkwardly. The door closed behind me.

 

_What the fuck was that._

 

————-

 

After school, I was still reeling from that experience with Baldi. Christ, I had expected to be beaten to death today, and instead I’d gotten a soft pat on the head and a soft banana to go along with it.

 

I’d realized right when I’d gotten back to the cafeteria that the reason Baldi praised me today was probably because of the notoriously difficult midterm we’d had the week before.

 

I had actually studied my head off on that one, and it looked like it had paid off.

 

But god, what kind of psychopath was he? He seemed so genuinely proud of me, so happy that a student loved math as much as he did...

 

No. Try as I might, I couldn’t convince myself that Baldi had been faking that. If there was one thing that red-lipped bastard really treasured, it was math, and it only made sense that he’d be so enthusiastic about a good test score.

 

I just hadn’t expected the whole exchange to be so... _warm._

 

It was a different feeling, to be praised by someone who held so much power, who was so hard to please. As screwed up as it was, I felt the greatest I had in a long time. I had pleased Baldi. He hadn’t brutally murdered me.

 

I looked at the banana in my hand. I hadn’t eaten it, despite its potassium content. It was too important to eat. I actually considered making a cast out of it, so I could set it on my desk as a memento of this revolutionary day.

 

Suddenly, I saw Baldi in a new light. His peppy voice was actually pretty cute if I thought about it, and that _pat-pat_ he’d done to my head was also adorable.

  


Was this... Stockholm syndrome?

 

I put my head in my hands. _Gotta Sweep should smack me in the head with his handle and knock some sense into me. I actually like Baldi. I like a serial child killer, who might as well have killed me today._

 

I needed to go to bed.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long ruler
> 
> looks like a banana thoroughly seduced this student ahhahahaaha
> 
> the universe i've set up here is far from canon, i just made something up to add context
> 
> hope it's not too bad so far


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skirt skirt  
> .  
> .

 

I came into class and realized everyone’s eyes were on me. 

 

Yikes. I looked tentatively around at my classmates, who usually stared straight ahead right when someone came in, lest it was our dear math teacher. But this time, their stares seemed to shoot right through my skull. 

 

No doubt some of them had noticed when, the day before, I came into lunch late with a suspicious and very familiar looking banana in my hand. 

 

Rumors spread. I was Baldi’s favorite. I was under Baldi’s nonexistent green wing now. And that meant I was going to be under constant judgement. 

 

It always worked like that. I mean, it was life or death, and since I’d secured myself a pretty good place within Baldi’s empty heart, I was at an advantage, while the rest of the class... wasn’t. 

 

_ Maybe you people should have studied,  _ I thought selfishly as I sat down in my seat. 

 

“hEllo, clASS!” Shit. It was  _ him.  _ The room dutifully righted itself. 

 

The Bald Man walked up to the front of the classroom, setting his ruler on his desk like he did every morning. 

 

“sO, clASS, today we are going to-” He stopped. 

 

I stopped. 

 

The class stopped. 

 

I had been trying to get my textbook out of my backpack to do the problems Baldi would inevitably assign us in the next three seconds, but I set my backpack back down on the ground and slowly looked up. 

 

_ What.  _ Baldi was looking at me. No, wait, he wasn’t looking at my face, he was looking a bit  _ downwards _ , but he was definitely looking in  _ my  _ direction. Nobody sat as much to the right of the room as I did. 

 

After what seemed like an eternity of awkward, unnerving silence, Baldi coughed. It was a weird sound. 

 

“Y-you,” he said, gesturing towards me with one of his bony fingers. I straightened, full of apprehension. 

 

Baldi coughed again.  “Your skirt is too short.”

 

_ What.  _

 

_ What.  _

 

_ What.  _

 

The class whispered, which was something it usually never had the balls to do in front of Baldi. But that was all justified, because Baldi had a very tight knit script he liked to follow in class. 

 

Everyday, he would come into the classroom and say “hEllo clASS” and set his ruler down. Then he would announce the chapters of problems we were doing today. Then he would give us either a) a pop quiz, b) a scheduled quiz, c) a pop  _ test _ , or d) a scheduled test. And throughout all that the only interaction he would make with students was  _ staring.  _ If a kid talked out of line, Baldi would just stare daggers at them until they stopped. If a kid failed a test, Baldi would give them the ‘death stare’, which meant that particular kid probably wouldn’t make it to the next week. And on  _ occasion,  _ he would gift the good kids some tasty quarters. 

 

It was all planned out. 

 

_ This,  _ calling someone out for the  _ length of their skirt,  _ was absolutely unheard of. 

 

Why? 

 

Because we all wore the same thing every day. Because that was one of the things Baldi  _ hated;  _ he couldn’t tell us well enough apart if we always changed clothes. It was one of his  _ rules.  _

 

I had worn this same skirt for  _ years and years _ , and only  _ now _ was Baldi calling me out for it. 

 

It wasn’t even that short! It went past my knees, for God’s sake!

 

But I couldn’t say that out loud, could I?

 

“S-sorry, sir,” I muttered, pulling my already-fucking-long skirt down as far as it would go. “I’ll um... I’ll wear something longer... next time.”

 

“... good. S-sO, clASS-”

 

And just like that, he was back on script. 

 

What exactly was going on? Yesterday he singles me out and gives me a banana, and today he tells me to wear a different skirt, when I’ve worn this skirt his entire class?

 

Apparently the rest of my classmates were on the same wavelength I was, because their whispering was still going on, barely detectable, but still very pointedly about Baldi and me. 

 

——

 

“What the heck was that?” Whispered my friend, Jamie, in my ear at lunch. 

 

I shrugged. “I... I don’t know, man. He's never said anything like that before.”

 

“Yeah, duh,” Jamie took a large anxious bite out of his PB&J sandwich. “Didn't you notice the whole entire class talking about you?” He said with his mouth full. 

 

“I noticed.” I looked down at my lap for the thousandth time that day. Nope. My skirt was still as long as before. The most leg I could see was my calves and my ankles. If Baldi thought  _ that  _ was obscene, he should see the shorts some of my friends wore on summer vaca-

 

“Ten years,” Jamie interrupted my thoughts with a large swallow. “And I've never heard him stutter. Ten years.”

 

“What are you getting at?” I whispered, feeling a sudden weird heat wash over my face. 

 

“Well, according to Michael and Julie,” Jamie leaned in. “Baldi likes you. In... that way.”

 

A moment passed. 

 

Then I burst into laughter. 

 

Heads turned, but I didn’t care. It was too fucking hilarious, the Gay™ Sadist “liking” one of his students. Especially  _ me _ , I mean, I’m no seductress. All I did was ace one midterm, and suddenly Mr. Baldi, the most sexless being to ever graze the Earth with his tiny feet, has the  _ hots _ for me. A student. A candidate for his murder victim. 

 

I couldn’t stop, not even when I felt the inevitable tap of old man Principal on my shoulder. 

 

“No laughing,” he muttered, as I furiously tried to compose myself. “Detention for you.”

 

I spent a grand total of sixty seconds in the Principal’s office. It was a tad longer than usual, probably because of my little jab the day before. Honestly, it really wasn’t that bad. All I had to do was endure the weird, blurry stare of the Principal for a minute straight. 

 

During that minute, I stared at Baldi’s little portrait and his description. “Great teacher due to his increible hearing abilities! He can not only tell where any sound came from, but who made it too!”

 

All the little descriptions were pretty shitty, but his was probably the shittiest. It was just a warning to his to-be victims to keep their asses in line. 

 

As I stared at his smiling, bald head, I couldn’t ever imagine him having any sort of romantic feelings whatsoever. He looked like a husk of a man, a robot, someone designed to teach, to praise, and to punish. Nothing else. 

 

That was why the whole skirt thing was such a puzzle. God, what was going on?

 

When I finally left the principal's office, a familiar voice stopped me. 

 

“Give me something  _ great.” _

 

It was the Bully. I rolled my eyes. 

 

“You want something  _ great _ , buddy?” I snapped, looking the Bully right in his malformed face. “How about you get a pat on the head, a banana, and a weird leg-stare from the strictest teacher in this building?”

 

It was only when the Bully blinked thrice at me that I realized I’d said too much. 

 

“What I’m saying is, fuck off.” I amended. The Bully gave me a pointed look again and slowly walked away. 

 

I went in the other direction, wondering what just happened, when I heard a distinctive noise:

 

_ Slap.  _

 

_ Slap.  _

 

_ Slap.  _

 

Oh no. 

 

Was it a fail, or an escapee? Baldi hadn’t given anyone a death stare today, so it had to be a brave soul attempting to leave this hellhole. 

 

It kind of surprised me that there was an escapee this late into the year. Nowadays, people just kind of lived with the situation. 

 

I wondered who it was. 

 

My question was answered swiftly when I saw someone run past. 

 

Brown hair, grey eyes, stocky build. That was... that had to be Michael. 

 

_ Michael?  _ Wait, wasn’t he one of the ones who told Jamie that Baldi...

 

Baldi himself rounded the corner not moments after Michael, slapping that ruler against his bony palm rhythmically as his warning call. 

 

He was frankly terrifying like this. Any thought of him liking me fled my mind as the  _ slaps  _ continued. 

 

Then paused. 

 

Oh no. Baldi was looking at me. I was pressed back against the wall, heart pounding in my chest, and he looked at me with his large, strange eyes. He wasn’t slapping. He wasn’t moving. 

 

“Mr. Baldi...” I whispered. 

 

A distant but distinct sound of a door closing seemed to take Baldi out of his trance. He started moving and slapping again, leaving me staring awkwardly at his retreating form. 

 

Why. Why did he do this. 

 

Now that the thought was planted, it wouldn’t go away. 

 

What if...?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like baldi's a GOSHDARN PERVERT
> 
> poor bully though  
> he got cussed at
> 
>  
> 
> i'm a backer on the baldi's basics full game kickstarter and this is the content i make
> 
> here it is btw: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/193364415/baldis-basics-in-education-and-learning-full-game/description


	3. Wednesday

 

News of Michael circled around the room in Arts and Crafts the next day.

 

“He ran?!”

“Did he get out?”

“Is Michael okay?”

“Did Baldi get him?”

 

As he was the first escapee in a while, everyone was riled up. Julie seemed especially worried.

 

“He didn’t text me at all yesterday,” she would say, face more serious than ever. “He might be dead.”

 

And when she said that last part, she would sneak a glance at _me._

 

I had a very, very bad inkling about why.

 

If I was Baldi’s favorite, if Michael and Julie had both believed that Baldi had _romantic_ feelings for me... that may have been a reason for Michael to risk leaving. He had a higher risk of dying than I did. A much higher risk.

 

But I was still skeptical that Baldi even had _any_ feelings towards me. I was still just one of his students, a laboring slave who just needed to appease him with right answers. Come on. Baldi? Crushing on _me?_ No.

 

I hoped to God that Michael was okay. If he wasn’t, then it was technically my fault.

 

Eh, not technically. He could have just studied harder, reduced his risk of being ass-slapped to the gates of hell.

 

Maybe Baldi could have had a little crush on him too, if he did the work.

 

I didn’t know what to think.

 

All I knew was that the class was slowly turning against me, and it really wasn’t my fault.

 

—-

 

Michael _was_ okay.

 

Julie got a text. Apparently he’d _just_ gotten out before Baldi’s measuring stick met his buttocks.

 

At least he wasn’t dead. That would make everyone even more hostile towards me.

 

Baldi wasn’t helping the situation. Every time he passed my desk, his expression would visibly soften. Visibly. The corners of his red, misshapen lips would softly point upwards, and his eyebrows would appear less stern.

 

Part of me wanted to scream at him, “ _stop_ , this _you're my fave student_ shit is ruining my life”, but I could never bring myself to say anything.

 

After all, he was still _Baldi,_ the most terrifying figure in my life. And if he _did_ like me, I wasn’t going to be so stupid to push him away. He’d kill me.

 

And how was any of this my fault?!

 

Hell, I was even wearing a t-shirt and _sweatpants_ that day, the least provocative outfit I could muster.

 

Yet Baldi would not lay off of me.

 

“wOw, another pErfect scOre!” He tittered, his single hair bobbing in excitement. “gOod JOb!”

 

The class rumbled. _Fuck me._

 

“Thank you, Mr. Baldi, sir.”

“nO problem! Have this quarter!” He dropped a quarter on my desk, and it made the loudest goddamn rattling sound ever emanated in his classroom.

 

Could he be any _more_ obvious?

 

I shamefully collected my quarter, and shoved it down one of my sweatpants pockets. Maybe I’d give it to Julie or something, as a peace offering. I doubted she’d take it.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Baldi, sir.” I repeated. I hoped I didn’t sound too unenthusiastic.

 

I half expected him to next drop me keys to a new Mercedes or something, but luckily he stopped.

 

Then we had a pop quiz. I knew it was coming, and I’d studied for it, but I felt a growing curiosity in my bones. I had to test something. I had to know if I was right.

 

That Baldi only treated me well because I got perfect scores.

 

There were fifty questions on the pop quiz. Yes, fifty. His quizzes were quite extensive. If I missed like two, I most likely wouldn’t have the _worst_ score, but I definitely wouldn’t have the _best_ score either.

 

Would Baldman Bigot treat me the same way if I did this?

 

We all finished our tests within 30 minutes, and Baldi finished grading in 15. The worst score: 45. The owner of that score, a small struggling boy named Dylan, would have to watch his back, although luckily he didn’t get the death glare from Baldi. The best score: 50. That was expected. Jamie and Marissa held that score.

 

I would have too, except this was an experiment.

 

Baldi walked slowly up to my desk and dropped me my pop quiz. As expected: 48. I was half afraid he’d punt me to Beijing for betraying his trust, but he didn’t seem angry.

 

In fact, when I finally mustered the guts to look up at him, his face was just as mushy soft as it had been before.

 

Hoh. Now, this was a big deal. Baldi putting _anything_ before math scores was a _massive fucking deal._

 

“Ha ha,” he whispered, making me jump. “Crafty. Have this quarter.”

 

 _Did he want to kill me?_ I wondered as I heard the quarter clatter loudly once again on my desk. I slammed my index finger down on the metal disc so it would stop making that horrible noise, and I again shoved it into my sweatpants pocket. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop Baldi.

 

I tried. I wore sweatpants. I made mistakes. But the green-clad monster mash didn’t want to leave me alone.

 

By the end of the day, I’d have 10K in quarters.

 

 _“Crafty”._ Baldi had seen right through me. Maybe I had to get a few wrong on _every_ test for him to believe that I wasn’t perfect. Would I be willing to risk that? Would I risk my life to prove a point?

 

Honestly, I could just ask him.

 

_What’s up Mr. B?! Do you think of me as more than just another one of your students, old man?! Cause that might be real bad for my social life._

 

That seemed like a stressful idea.

 

 _I’m doing this for you guys,_ I told the rest of the class silently. _You’d better be grateful._

 

At lunch, I went to the fated classroom.

 

—-

 

“cOme In!” Baldi was sitting peacefully at his desk, eating another goddamn banana and grading papers. He was very good at that; he whizzed through them with only one hand, while the other (of course) was gripping that yellow fruit.

 

I walked up to his desk until he told me to sit down, which I swiftly did, like the last time we’d met alone. My heart was beating somewhere around my throat. This time, I was nervous for a completely different reason than last time.

 

“May I... ask you something, Mr. B-Baldi?”

 

“Of cOurse! Ask away!”

 

I cleared my throat. “Y-you know that pop quiz we had today... I didn’t d-do too well on it.”

 

Baldi gave no response, he just continued grading and listening.

 

“Why did you give me that quarter?”

 

It was the closest I could get to the _real_ question without, you know, asking the real question.

 

Baldi didn’t say anything for a moment, pondering my question. The he spoke. “I give a lot of tests.”

 

Well that was an understatement.

 

Then he turned. “I know when I am being tested.” The bald man looked up at me, and I felt a strange chill run up my spine. I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. His voice had gone surprisingly non-nasal, and it was perturbing.

 

Then he smiled. “You are my fAvorite. You don’t need a test to see that!”

  


Oh.

  


No.

Fuck this.

Fuck me.

  


He actually liked me.

  


“O-okay, thanks,” My face was probably as red as First Prize’s tongue right then. “Thank you, Mr. Baldi.”

 

He hummed in response, voice back to full-on nasal mode.  “Have fun at lunch, ____.”

 

Never once had I heard my name come out of that rubber band mouth. I stuffed my hands in my sweatpants pockets and left the room as quickly as possible.

 

What did I do now?

 

First option: get the Bully to fist my face. No, get him to _punch_ my face, what the fuck kind of wording was I -

 

In my memory, the Bully had never actually hit a kid, only made fun of them, annoyed them, or asked for something. I would be his first. His initiation into full bully-hood. Maybe if he punched hard enough, I would either die of brain damage, or get a concussion so I could just reset my memory of this situation.

 

Second option: run. Leave the school. But the more I thought about it, the less confident I was. Baldi would _never_ let someone go, not even me. And I didn’t want to risk death, not now.

 

So, the third and final option: just live with it. See where it goes.

 

Where _would_ it go? Would it just stop at “you’re my favorite”? Would it, God forbid, go further than that? What would that even be?

 

I imagined _flirting_ with Baldi, walking down the halls and sharing glances, _kissing_ Baldi -

 

I slammed into the wall face first, making me stumble and fall back onto the ground.  

 

“ _Ow,”_ White spots danced in my eyes.

 

A whirring sound. “I see you. Friend.” It was First Prize, our robot mascot.  It rolled up in front of me and I used some of the rigging to hoist myself up.

 

“Thanks, man,” I muttered, feeling at my nose to make sure it wasn’t broken.

 

“Will you marry me?”

 

“Uh, I’ll pass.”

 

God, the whole school was in love with me. Ha. Ha. Ha...

 

My legs felt wobbly as I walked down the hall. The pain in my entire body helped me forget about Baldi for a little while.

 

I needed to see a nurse, if we even had one.

 

We didn’t. This school would fail health and safety in so many levels.

 

How many more years did I have to be here, in an unsafe school full of hazards and one psychopathic child murderer who apparently liked me more than everyone else? How many more years did I have to do the danger dance with Baldi and my friends so I didn’t piss anyone off? So I didn’t die?

 

I did want to leave. I wanted to run from this schOOLhouse and never come back again.

 

College. I had to wait until college. It wasn’t that far off, I could get there. But any span of time in Baldi’s weird gaze seemed like an eternity.

 

I just had to survive until college.

 

Until then, I had to suck it up and not fuck it up.

 

Please don’t fuck it up.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owowowowoowo baldi's getting more f o r w a r d
> 
> idek how old the main character is don't ask me
> 
> also i feel like when people write baldi fics/baldi smut they tend to just.... forget what his voice sounds like?? like that dying squidward-type thing??
> 
> i tried to kinda sorta emulate his goofy "child-friendly" voice lilt in this fic but i have to admit, it's pretty hard...
> 
> (P.S. yes, arts and crafts is a student and not a class but whatever i just wanted another subject)


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit goes d o w n

 

Sweatpants. Check. Baggy t-shirt. Check.

 

I looked in the mirror. Wow, I looked shitty. Good. Check.

 

Sigh. I sat on the ground, still looking in the mirror. Who was I doing this for? My friends? Myself?

 

I didn’t want to be hated. I didn’t want to be hated by everyone.

 

But did I really want to be hated by Baldi?

 

It was something I’d been trying not to think about this whole time. What were _my_ feelings? How did _I_ feel about that skinny-ass ping pong ball of a math teacher?

 

I had _said_ the answer, Monday night, after Baldi had shown some actual humanity for once. The banana I still had in my fridge was evidence.

 

I did like him.

 

Stockholm syndrome.

 

I probably wasn’t sane. I probably wasn’t thinking. What the hell was this, teenage hormones or something? Was this puberty? Why couldn’t these stupid hormones find someone _else_ to like? Jamie was my best friend, I could have liked him. At least Jamie wasn’t a goddamn murderous dictator figure. I had a better chance at having a good relationship with a can of Bsoda than with Baldi.

 

Fuck. _Fuck._ What the fuck was going on. I was his favorite student, had there really been _anything_ that suggested I was more than that to him? It was goddamn Michael and Julie. They planted that suggestion into my mind, and now I was actually clinging to it.

 

I felt like crying. I actually liked the shittiest, weirdest looking creature in all of Crazy Town. I liked the Hitler of our school, someone who’d murdered dozens of people I knew. Where was a psychiatrist when you needed one? A shrink? I needed a shrink.

 

This had gone far, far beyond what was acceptable.

 

I threw open the door and left my house.

 

——

 

I didn’t walk swiftly and coolly past Baldi like I usually did at the entrance to the school. Instead, I stopped. I stood next to him for a few seconds, and let some other kids in before me.

 

“Mr. Baldi.”

 

He looked down, weird-ass smile not nearly as present as it usually was. Baldi knew this was a serious conversation, somehow.

 

“Some of my classmates, unnamed of course, have been talking,” I bit my lip. “Talking about _us._ ”

 

I waited to die. I waited for Baldi to kill me. He didn’t, so I moved on.

 

“And - and, uh, I know you called me your favorite student andthat’sreallygreatandIappreciatethatalotbutsomepeoplehavebeensayingthatyouthinkofmeasmorethanastudentandithashonestlybeenreallyconfusingandI’mverysorryMr.Baldithiswon’taffectmygradesoranythingbutbut...”

 

My nerves got the better of me and I started rapping like the folks downtown, but Baldi (terrifyingly enough) nodded like he’d understood every word.

 

“Hmm...” he blinked and looked off to the left, which was something I’d never seen him do. The nasalness was accentuated when he hummed. “Hmmm...”

 

“What do _you_ think?” He asked, and suddenly my world shut down.

 

What did _I_ think? What? About what?

 

“I’m not... sure what you mean...”

 

“Do you... hmm...” Baldi kept looking left. “Do _you_ think... I...”

 

Shit.

 

Did I think he liked me.

 

Did I?

 

Did I really think that, even before Michael? Before Julie?

 

“N-no...” I mumbled. I wasn’t one to assume. I hadn’t really thought about it until Jamie told me what the _class_ thought. That was the honest truth.

 

Baldi didn’t answer, again. A kid passed us, walking into the school. “Hmm...”

 

“What... do you want to hear?”

 

Haha, I thought, as more sweat beaded on my forehead. Baldi’s face was still so fucking weird looking that I could have laughed at him, haha. Wow. What a fantastic conversation to be having with an egg. Hahahahahahah..hah...

 

But my heart was still beating so hard my vision seemed to shake.

 

What did I want to hear?

 

Should I be honest? _Could_ I be honest?

 

I wanted to hear that he did like me. Of course I did. But I couldn’t _say_ it. That was going too far.

 

That was going way too far. With Baldi. I was talking to Baldi about my feelings. This was bad.

 

“Uh… uh… uhm…” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t ever bring myself to say it. I didn’t want to lie, out of principle and also out of respect for how serious this conversation was, but the truth was just… impossible. _I couldn’t say it._

 

Baldi sighed. “Ha… well, I can guess, I guess.”

  
  
Oh no. I didn’t know what I was afraid of. Why was this moment, out of all the moments in my goddamn life, the most terrifying? Oh no.

  
  
I realized I was staring at my shoelaces and mustered what little courage I had left to look up. Right at old Baldi’s face.

  
  
It was that same soft expression he’d used during class. “Well,” He smiled a little. “Whatever you wanted to hear, you’re right.”

  
  
  
_Fuck_.

  
  
_Fuck_.

  
  
_FUCK, don’t do this to me, you bald bitch, please-_   


 

 

“D-do you?!” I blurted, making the small child who was just passing jump. 

  
  
Baldi, who was just turning away, stopped.

  
  
There was a pause that seemed to stretch for hours.

  
  
Then slowly, slowly, he turned to look at me again, and my heart skipped a beat.   
  
  
  
His face. It was dusted red.   
  
  
  
“ _Yes_ .”   
  
  
  
——   
  
No doubt the rest of the class noticed how utterly shellshocked I looked when I finally walked in the room. I probably looked like I’d seen five car crashes consecutively on my way to the schoolhouse, ones that all involved members of my family.

  
I kind of wanted to puke, scream and cry all at the same time. Hell no. This was not happening. This had to be some dream. Some crazy, freaky dream.

  
“ _Yes_ .” It was burned into my brain. “ _Yes_.”

 

  
OH GOD.

  
  
OH GOD NO.   


  
Why was I freaking out? This was good! This was what I wanted!

  
  
_That’s what made it so horrifying._

  
  
  
“hEllo, clASS!”

  
  
“Mmnnghh!”

  
  
  
At hearing that voice, I made a sound that could only be described as a muffled, guttural scream.

  
  
  
The class froze.

  
  
I froze.

  
  
  
_Shit, why?_ But I couldn’t _stand_ it. It was like a reflex.

  
  
  
I looked up at Mr. Baldi with my eyes wide.

  
  
“Mr… B-Baldi… uh, I-I-“

  
  
“Shh,” he shushed me, and blood rushed to my face.

  
  
Baldi’s smile was wide as he went back on his route to the front of the class. “sO, todAy, we will be-“

  
  
I could sense dozens of eyes on me, boring through me. They knew something was up. Did I care? Did I? Not really. I was too focused on not combusting on the spot. Fucking Baldi, back at it again with some more life-ending experiences. No way this was happening right now.

  
  
The class went by in a heartbeat, and surprisingly I was able to still do his fucking stupid shitty chapter problems with ease. God, I was indoctrinated. When Baldi saw this, of course, he smiled at me and gave me a quarter, which I wanted to choke on and die immediately. My face was beet red that entire period. I left the room feeling lightheaded.

 

Jamie buttonholed me on the way to lunch. “Hey, _hey,_ _____. What’s up with you?” He whispered, looking around for the Principal in case he came to enforce some _no talking in the halls_ bullshit or something. “What was that today with Baldi and the-the screaming?”

 

I shook my head fervently. “No. No, I don’t want to talk about it. It was something really fucking weird and I kind of want to die right now.”

 

 _No swearing in the halls?_ Nope. The Principal was blissfully absent.

 

“I saw you talking to Baldi this morning,” Jamie continued to whisper. “C’mon. We’re friends, right? What happened?”

 

“Nothing good. Nothing that should have happened.”

 

“Does... does he really...?”

 

I kicked open the cafeteria door, which was _definitely_ against school rules, and stalked inside, speed walking to my usual spot.

 

“Yo,” Jamie sat down next to me, and I quickly scooted away. “That... that is pretty bad...”

 

I took a peek at Jamie’s face. He looked genuinely worried.

 

God, I couldn’t push him away. Not if Baldi and I were getting married next week. Not if the world was ending in 24 hours.

 

“Jamie,” I spoke in hushed tones, looking around at all my classmates, some of which were looking right back. “I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone, even though it’ll probably get out there anyway and I’ll be arrested. Don’t tell.”

 

So I told him.

 

When lunch ended, we went to the next class in silence.

 

—-

 

After school, I went to Baldi’s classroom.

 

Why? I didn’t know. I just felt like I had to be there.

 

I just felt like I had to reaffirm that what had transpired that morning wasn’t a fever dream caused by the paint fumes from Arts and Crafts or anything.

 

I opened the door.

 

“_____.”

 

“Mr. Baldi.”

 

“Good to see you.”

 

“Good to... see you too, sir.”

 

“Sit down.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

I did.

 

For many years, I’d never really looked around Baldi’s classroom. Not really. It was like that for a lot of places. It was surprising how much more there was to see in a place if you just _looked._

 

The walls were made of light grey brick, and the carpet was a strange shade of blue. The ceiling was a popcorn, black and white scheme.

 

Baldi stood out sharply against everything. I guessed that was why he wore lime green, to stand out. As an object of fear, or in my case, an object of _interest_.

 

God.

 

“What... What comes next?” I whispered, hardly loud enough for anyone except me to hear, but of course Baldi heard perfectly.

 

“Hmm... whatever you want,” Baldi answered, his voice soft against the silence of the room. What _did_ I want? I didn’t know.

 

I coughed. “Please, don’t treat me any different than the others. Not in front of them. It isn’t fair.”

 

Baldi seemed mildly amused by this, because his mouth twitched. “wOw. So noble.”

 

“T-that means less smiles,” The words came out with difficulty. “Less quarters. And if I make a mistake on a test or a quiz, I pay the price.”

 

“You weren’t... exempt from this, you know,” With his bony fingers, Baldi picked his ruler up from his desk. I flinched slightly, and he apologetically put it back down.

 

Despite myself, I nodded. “I shouldn’t be exempt from anything. Break the rules, pay the price.”

 

The real mantra had more to do with slappin’ that ass, but I had to use the clean version for Baldi.

 

But looking at Baldi now, he looked slightly disappointed. Disappointed that, what, that he _could_ kill me?

 

Or was it because of the whole not treating me different thing?

 

“In exchange,” I added, fiddling with the waistband of my sweatpants. “I’ll... always be here. After school.”

 

I saw his face light up again, and I tentatively smiled back.

 

Half of me was excited. Half of me was nervous. But that’s what this was all about.

  


Thank god it wasn’t a fume-induced hallucination.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> ...  
> ...
> 
> hmmm why am i posting this


	5. Friday

 

Everything was back to normal. 

 

I went to school in my now usual outfit of a t-shirt and sweatpants, and I gave Baldi a smile on the way in. He still greeted me with that “welcome to my schOOLhouse” shit, but I could forgive him this once. 

 

I still didn’t deny my need for a shrink. I still couldn’t believe I was now maintaining a scheduled relationship with my goddamned math teacher. 

 

At least he didn’t give me too many noticeable perks in class. While I used to get slightly angry stares from my classmates, now I just got nothing, which is what I wanted. Baldi didn’t drown me in  old George Washingtons now, not unless I actually got great scores. I was just another student, just like I wanted. 

 

At lunch, Jamie pressed me about Baldi’s sudden change in attitude. 

 

“Did you guys...” He half-asked, and I nearly slapped him in the face with my candy bar. 

 

I groaned. “What the shit are you asking me, Jamie? You know what? Just... just never talk about me and Baldi in proximity again.”

 

“But he doesn’t do all the fancy stuff for you anymore! It’s like nothing ever happened!”

 

“Well, maybe nothing  _ did  _ ever happen, did you ever think about that?”

 

Jamie cocked his head. I saw Julie staring at me from the lunch table left of us. 

 

I looked Jamie right in his blue eyes. “Okay, Jamie, just no. Just stop with the Baldi talk. Nothing happened.” I shoved my candy wrapper in my pocket.  “Oh. Wait, I did forget to tell you something.”

 

“What, what?” Jamie leaned forward, looking eager. 

 

I smirked. “The Baldi murder counter. Remember?”

 

“Oh.” Jamie visibly deflated. 

 

Laughing, I smacked his shoulder playfully. “It’s zero this week, isn’t that sweet?”

  
  
  
  


After school, I checked around the halls. No one was there, no one except the usual bunch of  _ special _ kids who stayed after. 

 

I walked the familiar route to Baldi’s classroom, down hallways, past Playtime and First Prize And quickly avoiding the Bully. 

 

I found the door, took a deep breath, and knocked three times. 

  
  


“Mr. Baldi?”

 

“Come in.”

  
  


_ That voice.  _

 

I smiled and opened the door. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally done!
> 
> congrAtulAtions if you made it through the whole thing! 
> 
> give yourself 42069 quarters and marry first prize
> 
> whatever happens after this chapter ends is up to you... 
> 
> (honestly i couldn't write actual baldi smut if i had a gun to my head, sorry)
> 
>  
> 
> anyway thanks for reading and have a nice life knowing that at least you didn't write this fic


End file.
